No, not drunk but this is some seriously funny shit:
http://thisisphotobomb.com/. Some of these made me cry. You know, in a good way. Not in the way when Mrs. Bulba once threw away a pair of my favorite boots because she thought they were, "Gross." She's also bad about tossing my underwear that she determines is too worn or whatever--the kind that may have a few holes here and there but has cotton that has reached a perfect texture through a thousand washings along with incalculable exposure to powerful gasses that assist in the process. She also enjoys throwing away the newspaper before I've read all of it, or some golf magazine that I intend to read, attempting to decipher some swing sequence labeled "Yes" and "No" which I can never figure out along with "inside" or "outside" paths or whether I need a "high" or "low" spin rate on the golf ball matched with my swing speed or really any of that golf advice shit you see which, of course, begs the question of just why in the hell I get the damn golf rags anyway? Mostly, I think, it's for the article every now and then by Jenkins or Feherty or someone who really gets it as far as golf goes in that most or all of that technical stuff matters only to the gnostics on the tour and that for us wretched unwashed the best thing to do is to just spray it and play it and have a beer or two along the way. I'd throw in something about tobacco products but I'm currently on the wagon there, so I'll just say what makes golf (and bowling and fishing and dominoes and throwing washers, etc.) great is that you can quite happily drink and smoke or dip or chew while engaged in the process.
http://thisisphotobomb.com/. Some of these made me cry. You know, in a good way. Not in the way when Mrs. Bulba once threw away a pair of my favorite boots because she thought they were, "Gross." She's also bad about tossing my underwear that she determines is too worn or whatever--the kind that may have a few holes here and there but has cotton that has reached a perfect texture through a thousand washings along with incalculable exposure to powerful gasses that assist in the process. She also enjoys throwing away the newspaper before I've read all of it, or some golf magazine that I intend to read, attempting to decipher some swing sequence labeled "Yes" and "No" which I can never figure out along with "inside" or "outside" paths or whether I need a "high" or "low" spin rate on the golf ball matched with my swing speed or really any of that golf advice shit you see which, of course, begs the question of just why in the hell I get the damn golf rags anyway? Mostly, I think, it's for the article every now and then by Jenkins or Feherty or someone who really gets it as far as golf goes in that most or all of that technical stuff matters only to the gnostics on the tour and that for us wretched unwashed the best thing to do is to just spray it and play it and have a beer or two along the way. I'd throw in something about tobacco products but I'm currently on the wagon there, so I'll just say what makes golf (and bowling and fishing and dominoes and throwing washers, etc.) great is that you can quite happily drink and smoke or dip or chew while engaged in the process.
Go tee (and light) it up this weekend. And tell your wife to leave your underwear alone unless she's assisting in taking it off.
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